Visit

The ride up the motorway

is full of nostalgia.

I wonder if Mother haunts Aunt’s house.

Which looks ramshackle as ever.

Aunt is slouching in the doorway,

ready to dispense enormous hugs.

She has baked special buns.

My stomach churns.

She has lots of warm,

interested questions.

I have this feeling Aunt

has never emptied her heart,

since we were last here.

The dust is going to ignite

my allergies. But they’ll be

happy sneezes.

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